


Clean

by red_starshine



Category: Constantine (TV), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Laundry, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 19:25:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4071769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_starshine/pseuds/red_starshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's laundry day at the millhouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by an anon’s prompt: ‘John's clothes are gone because Chas washed them without telling him, so John has to wear Chas' clothes which are way too big for him and he looks like an idiot.’ Thanks for the super adorable prompt, anon!

Chas knocked loudly on the door to John’s bedroom, jarring John from sleep. “Laundry day, John.”

John blinked his eyes open groggily, still tangled up in the sheets and blankets of his bed. “What?”

The door to John’s bedroom opened slightly, and Chas stuck his head in. “Laundry day. Where’s your stuff?”

John waved in the general direction of the closet in his bedroom. “There,” he mumbled, only half-awake. “Now g’way.”

Chas slid the door open, revealing a lopsided laundry bag full of mud-splattered black pants and button-down shirts that at one point had probably been white but definitely weren’t anymore.

Chas sighed and hefted the bag over his shoulder. John had already fallen back asleep before he left the room with John’s dirty laundry.

***

About an hour later, John burst into the laundry room wearing nothing but one of the bedsheets wrapped around him. “Chas, mate, what’d you do with my clothes?”

Chas gestured to two large tubs in the back. “Have them soaking to try and get all that crud off them before I put them into the wash.” He paused a moment from folding a shirt to look at John to confirm that yes, he was indeed only wearing a thin bedsheet draped and folded over his body like a toga. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“You took all my clothes,” said John with a touch of surliness. He reached into one tub and pulled out a pair of sopping wet pants, brown smears of mud still stubbornly clinging to the fabric. With a face, John dropped them back in. “Need something to wear, can’t just stroll around the millhouse starkers all day.”

“You say that like Zed and I haven’t already seen you jumping around the millhouse completely naked.”

John glared at him. “That’s different, it was for a spell.”

Chas silently folded the shirt and placed it into his laundry basket, thinking. “You can borrow some of my clothes,” he suggested.

There was a moment of silence. “You really think that’s going to be much better then me wandering around like this all day?” John said, holding out the bedsheet.

“Yes,” said Chas. “A little.”

John rolled his eyes. “All right then,” he says, sitting down on top of the table Chad had been using to fold his clothes, seemingly unaware that the movement hitched the bedsheet up slightly and exposed the pale skin of his upper thigh and hip. “What do you got?”

Chas reached into his laundry basket and pulled out a folded navy blue and white plaid button-down shirt. He shook it out and then held it up to John for his approval.

John gave a slight grimace as he took it in. “Got anything that doesn’t look like it was made from a tablecloth?”

“Nope.” Chas wadded the shirt up and tossed it at John, who caught it in the center of his chest.

“Bloody figures,” John muttered. He held up the shirt against his torso. “Might as well be a tablecloth, it’s so bloody big...”

“Put it on, John,” said Chas as he looked through the pile of unfolded clothes for pants. He tugged a pair of jeans out and set them next to John.

John pulled off the bedsheet and grabbed the jeans. He stared at them for a moment before letting them fall into his lap. “There are sometimes I forgot just exactly how tall you really are.”

Chas shrugged as John pulled the shirt on over his head. The shirt was just as absurdly large on John as he’d expected – John could’ve turned it into an off-the-shoulder shirt just by sliding the collar over slightly, and the sleeves extended well past John’s hands. Chas had to turn his head away from John so he couldn't see him struggle to hold back his laughter.

Chas didn't do a very good job. "Your bloody idea, mate," said John.

“Sorry. We can roll those up,” said Chas. He stepped towards John and rolled up the cuffs of the sleeves to uncover John’s hands. The shirt and sleeves still dangled off John’s more slight and compact frame, but it’d have to do.

John hopped off the table and stepped into the jeans. Like the sleeves of the shirt, John’s feet were swallowed up by the jeans, and the inseam of the pants hit several inches too low. Unsurprisingly, they refused to stay up around John’s waist, sliding down John’s hips as soon as he let go of them.

“This isn’t going to work,” said John after several more attempts at getting the jeans to stay up.

Chas tossed him a black leather belt he’d pulled from one of John’s pants. “Try that.”

Grumbling, John threaded the belt through the loops of the jeans, using the tightest notch on the belt to try and hold the jeans in place. “There,” he said. “Now I look like a right prat.”

Chas looked at John and had to admit John had a point. The oversized clothes combined with his mussed blond hair and petulant expression made him look like a little boy playing in his father’s clothes. “It’s only for a few hours,” Chas said. “Just until your clothes are done.”

John crossed his arms over his chest. “This is still dead embarrassing.”

“Nobody’s ever died of embarrassment,” said Chas, years of raising a small child making the words come out of his mouth automatically.

John just rolled his eyes.


End file.
